


epochs

by soundthebells (kosy)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Drabble, Friendship, Gen, Missing Scene, Pre-Canon, edit: no relation to mag175 i swear this fic preceded it, they're just gettin to know each other!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:14:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24622213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kosy/pseuds/soundthebells
Summary: Working with Sasha on a joint research assignment, Jon reflects, is sort of like if group projects at university had ever been bearable.
Relationships: Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 14
Kudos: 132
Collections: GerryTitan verse





	epochs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pyrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrites/gifts).
  * Inspired by [two ships passing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22189123) by [pyrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrites/pseuds/pyrites). 



> hey all!! @gerrydelano on tumblr/@pyrites on ao3 requested some jon & sasha friendship content and i was thrilled to oblige! 
> 
> **important to know:** aspects of this are based pretty heavily off of the headcanons/character details established by ao3 users @pyrites and @renwhit in their works (to the point where this is almost more appropriately read as a missing scene for their works than actual canon TMA, lol), so the context for those is going to be mostly found in there. however, all you need to know for this is that sasha's trans and jon had an accident in his early twenties that sharply limited his mobility and has led to him using a cane. 
> 
> i hope you all enjoy!

“Thanks,” Jon says begrudgingly as Sasha finishes tapping away at his keyboard, pressing enter with a flourish before rolling her office chair back to where she’d been sitting previously. 

“No problem. It’s hardly rocket science,” she demurs. 

He shrugs. “Still. Where’d you learn how to do it?” 

She grins to herself, reopening her laptop. “I taught myself. I mean, it’s not like they’ve got community center classes on hacking into arrest records.” 

Jon blinks at her. “...Why are you working here? I mean, your skills seem ... _considerably_ above your paygrade.” The Magnus Institute is, for all intents and purposes, no man's land in the world of London academia. A veritable dead zone. It pays well enough for what it is and the work is interesting, but it has no connections to any other institutions—once you’re in, the most you can hope for is internal upward mobility. That or essentially starting over somewhere else. It's not a place that somebody like Sasha James ends up in. 

“Same reason as everyone else, probably,” she mutters. “This was the only place I could even get a second interview.” 

“Really?”

She shoots him a look, raising her eyebrows. “Yeah. I’m sure the interviewers thought they were very progressive, beyond all those petty social issues up in their ivory tower, but then _I_ walked in and, well.” 

“Huh,” Jon says after a moment. “Well, that’s—”

She winces and interrupts, waving a hand. “It's—fine. I’m here now, anyways. Research isn’t so bad, and obviously I like the supernatural.” She considers, tapping her fingernails lightly against her keyboard. “Honestly, I feel like I’d be way more limited if I were working for some government-funded research center anyway. Less oversight here, you know?” 

“Hm. Yeah, I can’t see a government organization being too chuffed about you committing—” He snorts— _"Cyber-crimes_ with the people’s tax money.” 

“Nobody calls them _cyber-crimes,_ Jon, what are you, forty?” Sasha laughs. 

“Thirty-seven,” he grumbles. 

“Sure.” 

“I _am.”_

She rolls her eyes at him but lets it lie, turning back to her own work. 

After that, they fall into a relatively comfortable silence. Working with Sasha on a joint research assignment, Jon reflects, is sort of like if group projects at university had ever been bearable. 

They’re having to stay late for this one—apparently they’re meant to finish it tomorrow, and for some reason Grant didn’t deign to tell them about its existence until earlier this afternoon—but he doesn’t mind nearly as much as he might have if his partner had been, say, Isaac or Johanna. Followup on a recent case that’s clearly already cold. Not much you can do to verify alleged shadow monsters that prey specifically on people who use blankets as a coping mechanism for fear, beyond looking into the weirder serial killings of the past year or so. Nothing will come of it, probably, but rarely anything that makes it to their desks ever does. 

“Why are _you_ working here?” 

He looks up. “I—What?” 

“Well, it’s the Magnus Institute, isn’t it? Hardly anybody’s dream job. Why’re you here?”

“I guess I... have a certain curiosity for the supernatural too. Since I was a kid,” he says, more stiffly than he'd like. 

“Yeah. What else, though? That can't be all.” 

Jon picks up a pen on his desk and fiddles with it, spinning it clumsily between his fingers. “I didn’t really think I’d make a career out of it, though, I suppose. I-In uni, I actually wanted—” He cuts himself off with a half-laugh. 

Sasha looks at him curiously, partially closing her laptop. “What?” 

He shakes his head, glances away. “I actually wanted to be a—a museum curator, if you can believe it.” He gives a self-deprecating smile but keeps watching his hands.

“No, no, I can see it, actually.” She’s still looking at him intently like she’s trying to imagine it herself, and after a couple seconds she nods decisively as if passing judgement. “Yeah, that’s you.” 

“I, ah—I even worked at the Natural History Museum as a docent for a while,” he offers. “I would've been happy just doing that, really. It was—it was nice.” 

Even out of the corner of his eye, he can see how clearly she’s holding herself back from the obvious question: _Then why did you stop?_ But she doesn’t ask, and he doesn’t look at the cane leaned up against his desk, doesn't think about bonesplit agony and the weary months that followed. Yet another personal extinction. He’s not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed. 

After a beat, she quietly says, “Sounds like it." 

“Well, you know. Always enjoyed a captive audience,” he says dryly.

She laughs. “Now _that_ sounds nice.”

“If you ever need somebody to tell you about paleontology, I’m the man to ask,” he tells her, allowing himself a half-smile. 

Sasha smiles back. “I’ll keep that in mind. You know, for the next time it comes up.” 

He huffs. “I guess it's only a matter of time before somebody comes in here raving about a bloody _ghost dinosaur.”_

“Personally, I’d welcome it. At least it would be an _interesting_ lie. The lack of creativity is really what gets me about all these fake cases.” 

Chuckling, Jon turns back to his screen. 

It's for the better, probably, that she didn't push. He's not sure what he would've said. What _can_ you say? He was one thing and then another in the worst kind of evolution. There's no story worth telling there. 

Still. In the past, so he permits himself a weary smile for who he used to be. Now, he thinks, it's better. Or at least close enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! if you haven't already, you should absolutely check out [two ships passing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22189123/chapters/52974727) and [Road to Damascus](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594225) bc like. c'mon. it's stellar fuckin writing. anyways i hope you enjoyed this messy lil first attempt at the jon & sasha dynamic, you can find me on tumblr [@boneroutes](https://boneroutes.tumblr.com) if you'd like!


End file.
